


Across the Universe

by 2x2verse (agent_florida)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/pseuds/2x2verse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Compressing months of a long-distance relationship into a single week is a feat for anyone, but you're cheating. You have the time, and space is no issue. Not for the two of you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across the Universe

It starts the second you get off the airplane.

You’re used to hot and muggy, but this… this is different. Because you’re in a new city, a new time zone, and your face is flushed as you make your way down the walkway. Because on the other side of security, there’s a boy waiting for you. Because you’ve talked about this for months and planned it and daydreamed and now it’s finally becoming a reality.

There’s a tremor lingering under your skin, little prickles mingling with the sweat under your braid on the back of your neck, and you keep nervously adjusting your glasses on your face. What if you don’t see him? What if he’s somehow different in person than he was during all those times on Pesterchum, in all those photos, through all those video chats? What if there’s no spark?

You see him before you process it. It’s the glint off of his shades, and then you’re running, running with the tail of your braid trailing out behind you, running so fast one of the wheels breaks off of your suitcase, and you’re anxious and you’re nervous and you’re excited and you wouldn’t change any of those feelings for the world, because that slight little smile when he sees you in return is worth more than the universe to you.

His bro’s there, and he has a video camera out, the bastard. He probably wants to film this as a family moment, but honestly, you don’t care. All you want to do is hug Dave, kiss him, smell him, hold his hand, and yet you come to a stop five feet away, unsure with how to proceed. “Hi!” you offer, and you hate how chirpy your voice is. (It reminds you of Davesprite, the time you did things wrong. You’ll get it right this time.)

“Hey,” Dave says, and the way he says it, the smile that’s creeping across his face, lets you know that everything’s going to be okay.

You drop your bags and leap into his arms and kiss him straight on the mouth and it isn’t the best kiss but it isn’t horrible either and Dave can’t stop smiling and neither can you and he tastes so good and when your hands come up to touch his face there’s a tremble in your fingers that you can’t quash down.

\--

The day starts with a tour around Houston. Bro’s pointing out everything, talking incessantly, but Dave isn’t very talkative. You know he hates speaking. It makes him feel wrong. But when he does, when he laughs, when he adds his commentary, it’s priceless. His voice is melodious and husky and all him and he is so perfect you can’t stop smiling.

\--

You get back to his apartment and he shows you his room. You’ve seen it a million trillion times before, but this is real. This is three-dimensional, smellovision, because the entire place carries his scent, that cologne you can’t quite place but clings to his shirt whenever you lean in to nuzzle at his cheek.

On his bed, the two of you share his computer, looking over your social networking sites and chatting simultaneously with John and Rose. (They’re both so happy for you. You hate being so happy in front of them, but you can’t help it.) Your fingers brush all the time when you’re entering URLs. He keeps leaning over to bury his nose at the base of your neck.

His fingers delicately undo the tie of your braid, unknot your hair, brush it to a sheen. He treats you like a porcelain doll, and as much as you want to tell him that you are a strong jungle babe who don’t need no comb, you don’t want him to stop. He’s wonderful. He’s perfect. He keeps whispering the same sweet words he used while you were long-distance, the words during video chats and phone calls, the words while you were crying out of frustration that you couldn’t be there, in the room, with him, right then.

The first night, you both fall asleep at the computer. You know you fell asleep first, because when you wake up in the morning, the computer is back on Dave’s desk and he’s curled around you like he can protect you from the world.

\--

Being around him turns your skin into an electrical conductor. He’s the spark that flows through you and makes your hair stand on end.

His binder is scratchy and synthetic under his cotton shirt, but he takes his shirt off for you, and that’s what’s important. You trace his freckles with your fingertips and touch his tongue with yours and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. Your shirt comes off, too, and his hands come up to your chest and cup you just the way you wished he would. Yes, and then his mouth traces the slope of your neck before his teeth graze across the top of your breasts, and things are about to get terrifying because you’re convinced he’s trying to take off your bra until he slows and stops.

Good. You weren’t sure where to go from here. You’re not sure he knows either. “Wanna play some Mario Kart?” he offers, and you end up putting your shirt on backwards and inside-out in order to beat him to the N64.

\--

One afternoon you spend hours in the kitchen trying and failing to be adults and make food.

He’s making you omelets. By omelet he means scrambled eggs with something else in the skillet. You’re baking, if by baking you mean flinging batter on the ceiling when you try to mix it by hand. You keep talking, but afterwards, you don’t remember the words that were said. All you remember are the smells. Your blueberry muffins fill the entire apartment, rousing Bro out of his afternoon siesta, and Dave’s spicy cooking offsets your tooth-rotting sweetness perfectly.

Your next meal is breakfast for dinner, and everyone is smiles and silence as they fill their mouths.

\--

One day, it’s so hot you don’t believe in keeping your clothes on. Usually it wouldn’t be such a big deal, because usually it’s just you. But he’s here, too, and you don’t know if it would be awkward.

But no, he lets you strip yourself down to bra and panties, and he even takes off his shirt and his shorts to get down to his binder and boxers. Today, junk TV feels like junk food, and you stuff your faces and laugh at stupid people and lean on each other and cuddle even though you’re sweaty and gross.

You’re horizontal on his bed when the touching gets more meaningful. It’s not just that he touches your butt, it’s that he gropes your ass to get your body closer to his. You’re pressed against the flat plane of his body and breathing up against him when he stops time by kissing you, more passionately than he ever has before, and you know things are getting serious.

You turn your brain off. You stop worrying about what you’re going to do to him. You stop wondering about what he’s going to do to you. You stop thinking, and you start actually enjoying yourself.

His thigh comes up between your legs and gently nudges against your panties. You gasp air out of his mouth and sigh it back in when his hand moves up your stomach so he can get his fingertips under the wire of your bra. “Ah…” comes out of your mouth when he pushes aside the cup to touch your nipple, and when he pinches it, you squeak. He doesn’t care. He kisses you anyway and whispers your name and something in you feels like it ratchets tighter than you thought possible.

All you can think to do is grab his ass right back, because you love the pressure between your legs. He obliges you by massaging you with his thigh, and you feel like you’re going to drench your panties. “So wet,” he whispers, and you’re not even ashamed, because the way he says it, it sounds like he thinks it’s sexy.

You grind up against him and he moans and so do you. In your eagerness, you bite at his lip, but it only gets him to make a noise that makes him utterly irresistible to you. His hands and yours both move at the same time to fiddle with your bra, and then you’re naked, naked in front of him. He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile. His mouth is in a little o, and he just takes it in, touching where he’s looking. You wish you could see his eyes.

If his thigh between your legs feels so good, maybe yours would do something for him. You nudge yours up against him and he actually cries out and humps up against you. Wow. That is… that’s hot. You’re moving your hips against each other and frotting like mad things and kissing and he smells so good and everything’s slick with fluids and sweat and your hair is clinging to your back and his is clinging to his forehead but everything feels too good to stop.

Something gathers at the base of your spine that you almost don’t recognize and then your life shatters into a thousand shards of glass each of them letting out a rainbow and your body is the universe and you can feel the stars in your skin and for all you know Dave is drawing out the moment just for you, just for the two of you.

It’s so warm and stifling you fall asleep afterwards. It means you stay up all night talking and become nocturnal.

\--

It’s time for a party.

You didn’t know what to bring, so you’re in a black flowy dress that sparkles a little. Dave looks great, even though he’s just wearing black skinnies and a red dress shirt rolled up to the elbows. You almost don’t want to go out.

But you do. You meet Dave’s friends from school. You meet all the people he’s ever told you about. They tell you how pretty you look and how much Dave loves you and you feel like your entire face is glowing. You can’t stop smiling. You also can’t let go of Dave’s hand. You’re a little nervous. (Who could blame you?)

Yes, there’s alcohol. Yes, you drink a little. Yes, Dave does too. And yes, you end up making out on the couch in the sight of God and man. And yes, the photos end up on ebubbles before you can recant them. You don’t blame people for posting them.

You and Dave are adorable together.

\--

The second to last day of your visit, you wake up feeling sleepy and happy and just like you want to get closer to him. You kiss him and he kisses you and then there is touching and you’re just so sleepy while the sunshine comes in that you can’t remember to be nervous around him, nervous that this is all so new to you.

Dave slips his hand into your panties and you arch backwards and cant your hips towards his hand and tell him without words that you don’t want him to stop. When he touches your nub, you whimper. When his fingertip traces your entrance, you mewl. When his finger starts to enter you, you cry out – but not in pain. Never in pain.

You’re so tight he can’t fit another finger in you. Then he thrusts enough, just right, touching you in ways you didn’t think possible, teeth tugging at one of your nipples, and something in you uncurls and he whispers “you’re coming” in that tone and it just makes it go on even longer. Is he cheating with his time powers? You don’t care.

And yet your body still hungers for more. You don’t care. You don’t want to deny it. When he goes to pull away, you circle two fingers around his wrist and keep his hand where it is. He gets the idea, kissing and nibbling at your neck while he penetrates you with a second finger. You feel so full. Full with him. It feels so good. It starts out slow and then he’s thrusting and then he’s moving them so fast and it’s still not fast enough until you’re almost, almost, almost, there, there, yes, and he marvels as you gush onto his hand for the second time in fifteen minutes.

And he’s still not done. And you still don’t want him to stop. Three feels like you’re being stretched. Stretched around him. You start moving your hips with him this time, and it feels even better. Then he starts muttering things in your ear about how amazing you are, about how much he loves you, how beautiful your body is, and when he whispers “Jade” you’re gone, you’re gone, and it’s so much better, so much more explosive.

You want to be done. But you feel like you have unfinished business. Dave does pull his hand away this time, and he leans off of the bed for long enough to reach over into his nightstand and fumble to get something out. He messes with his crotch for maybe thirty seconds, but it’s both nothing to you and ten thousand lifetimes. You peel off your panties. They’re ruined anyway. Plus, you want him to see what he does to you. If he thinks you’re still beautiful, he’s definitely a keeper.

Then your eyes stop being so half-lidded and you actually get a good look.

He has a dick.

Your boyfriend has his dick out and he’s rubbing it and getting it slick – getting it slick with you – and he’s going to get that in you. It’s a harness, you realize, his briefs were actually a harness, and now he’s packing, packing some serious heat, and even though it’s in his pants you want it in yours.

You grab him by the back of the arms and drag his mouth down to yours. His hips end up between your legs; his dick rubs up against you. You hold your hips up and try to help him as he guides himself inside and for a while you swear it’s not going to work but he’s made of time and you’re made of space and then he’s holding himself up above you and looking down at you and your glasses are both on the nightstand and this is red and green and it’s fucking Christmas up in this bitch because he’s inside you, your boyfriend is inside you, Dave Strider is inside you.

He draws out and back in, and you love him so much in this moment, because he’s moving with it like he was born with it, he’s so natural like this, you know he feels confident enough to do this with you. You run your hands up and down his chest and he whines and scrunches his eyes shut and it’s not until he mutters “come on” to you that you know what you did was okay.

He thrusts and you roll and it’s so good and the noises fill his room and the morning sun’s coming in and illuminating you in light and heat and you dig your fingers into his back so he can feel it through the fabric. You want to touch him hard enough to leave a bruise. He moves his hips faster, pummels into you, and it would feel like a punishment if you didn’t want it so much.

“Yes,” you can’t stop saying, “yes, yes, yes,” and then things become even more yes than you ever thought possible. As much as he sent you to Nirvana before, this is something else entirely. He’s kissing you and pinching your nipples and moaning in that breathy way that’s entirely him and you’re kissing him and digging your nails into his shoulders and wrapping your legs around his to lock him in because you need

more

all

yes

there

and when it hits it feels like you’re creating a new space all your own, with time enough to enjoy it, and he’s here, he’s here with you, sharing this with you, in every intimate way you can think of.

There’s a lot of hard breathing. Your hair is stuck to him in unfortunate places. It almost hurts when he pulls out. You know you’re going to be sore and it doesn’t matter.

The two of you cuddle naked and fall back asleep and wake up and do it again and fall asleep and talk and do it and talk and fall asleep again.

It’s the best day of your life.

\--

The last day, you catch Dave crying.

He thought you were showering, but you walked in on a moment he was having with Bro. His older sibling has a hand on his shoulder, speaking in a low, intense voice, and all you can hear in response are broken sobs. Your stomach knots itself. Did you do something wrong? Does he hate you and not know how to tell you to go home?

“I don’t want her to leave,” you hear him say, and your heart soars and breaks all at once.

\--

At the airport, he keeps it together. You’re the one who’s crying.

He hands you a red Smuppet with orange tufts of hair. There’s even little plastic shades to go with him. You know he hates the stupid things, but he actually wipes away your tears with the obscene nose of the thing. When you tell him to keep it, he presses it into your hands wordlessly. You hold it up to your face so you can kiss it. It smells like him.

The moment you have to go through security, you’re sure your world is over. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, buzzes, buzzes, and when you check your phone there’s nothing but sweet and reassuring messages.

It’ll be enough to get you home, at least.

Because Dave’s already booking his flight to come see you.


End file.
